THE MOUNTAIN RANGE
To go afoot is ideal travelling. Going afoot allows a man to see all that there is to see, gives leave for dallying. Who goes afoot is satisfied with by-paths when the high road is no more. He may proceed as the humour takes him, pass where the lightest vehicle, the best trained steed, could find no way, ascend the shelving steeps, and scale the mountain tops.
Thus, though they might have to endure great fatigue, Mr. Wolston and the two young men had not hesitated to plunge on foot into the heart of the unknown districts of the hinterland, all the more willingly in anticipation of their projected climb to the summit of the range.
This plan only involved a tramp of eighteen or twenty miles, provided they were able to go in a bee line to the foot of the mountains. There was thus no question of any long journey. But it was all through entirely new country, which might hold surprises for the three explorers.
Jack was the most highly excited of the party. With his adventurous temper it was an enormous satisfaction to him to pass beyond the limits of the Promised Land and to travel over these wide plains, of which he as yet knew nothing. It was a fortunate thing that he was not mounted on onager, bull, or ostrich, and that he had brought only one dog, Fawn. Thus, Mr. Wolston would have some chance of restraining his impetuosity.
When they emerged from the defile the three turned first towards the little eminence which was called the Arabian Watch-tower, in memory of the troop of ostriches in which M. Zermatt and his boy had imagined they saw a troop of Bedouin Arabs on horseback, on the occasion of their first visit to the Green Valley. From this tower they turned off towards the Bears' Cave where, a few years before, Ernest had come so near being suffocated in the hug of one of these much too pressing creatures!
It was not their notion to follow up the course of the Eastern River, which ran from south to west.
That would have meant lengthening their route, since the slopes of the range rose towards the south.
This led Ernest to observe:
"What we can't do on the Eastern River might have been done on the Montrose. It would certainly have been much shorter for us if we could have gone up one of its banks."
"What I want to know," said Jack, "is why we could not have gone in the pinnace to the mouth of the Montrose? The canoe might have taken us from there as far as the barrage, which is twelve to fifteen miles at most from the range."
"Nothing would have been easier, my dear boy," Mr. Wolston replied. "But the desert country through which the Montrose runs has nothing of interest to show us. So it is ever so much better to go across the region which lies between Deliverance Bay and the mountains."
Their route continued down the Green Valley, which extended for about five miles parallel to the boundary wall of the Promised Land. This valley was about a couple of thousand yards in width, and contained dense woods, isolated clumps of trees, and grass lands rising in terraces up its sloping sides. In it was a stream which murmured as it ran among the reeds, and which flowed either into the Eastern River, or into Nautilus Bay.
Mr. Wolston and the two brothers were longing to get to the end of the Green Valley, so as to obtain their first glimpse of the country which opened up to the south. To the best of his skill and knowledge Ernest took their bearings as they went, by means of his pocket compass, and made notes of them, with the distances they covered.
About midday they halted in the shade of a clump of guava trees, not far from grass where euphorbia grew in abundance. A few partridges which Jack had shot as he went along, were plucked and cleaned and roasted over a fire, and, with some cassava cakes, formed the luncheon. The stream provided clear water, with which a dash of brandy from the flasks was mixed, and ripe guavas served admirably for dessert.
Invigorated and rested, the three men resumed their march. The far end of the valley was penned in between two lofty walls of rock. As it ran through this narrow gorge the stream was transformed into a torrent, and the outlet came into view.
An almost flat country, displaying all the luxuriant fertility of the tropics, spread as far as the first belts of the range. What a difference from the region watered by the upper reaches of the Montrose! A couple of miles away to the south-east, a liquid ribbon unrolled, gleaming in the sun, no doubt flowing to join the Montrose.
Southwards, as far as the foot of the mountains, for fifteen miles or more, plains and forests succeeded one another. The marching was often heavy. The ground was thickly covered with grass five and six feet high, with tall reeds studded with prickly plumes, and with sugar-canes waving in the breeze as far as eye could see. There was no doubt it would be possible to develop with vast profit all these natural products which, at this period, formed the principal wealth of over-sea dominions.
When Mr. Wolston and the two young men had walked for four solid hours, Ernest said:
"I vote we call a halt."
"What, already?" exclaimed Jack, who had as little desire to rest as his dog had.
"I agree with Ernest," said Mr. Wolston. "This seems a suitable spot, and we can spend the night at the edge of this copse of nettle-trees."
"Well, then, let us camp," said Jack, "and have dinner, too, for my stomach's empty."
"Must we light a fire and keep it up till daylight?" Ernest asked.
"It would be wise," Jack declared; "that is the best way to keep wild beasts off."
"No doubt," said Mr. Wolston, "but we should have to keep watch in turns, and I think sleep is better. I do not think there is anything for us to fear."
"No," said Ernest confidently; "I have not noticed any suspicious tracks, and we have not heard a growl since we left the Green Valley. We may as well spare ourselves the weariness of keeping watch one after the other."
Jack did not insist, and the travellers prepared to appease their hunger.
The night gave promise of being one of those nights when nature slumbers sweetly, and no breath disturbs the peace. Not a leaf moved among the trees, not the snapping of a twig broke the silence of the plain.
Fawn betrayed no symptoms of uneasiness. No hoarse bark of jackals was heard from afar, although those brutes were so numerous in the island. Upon the whole, there did not seem to be the least imprudence in sleeping under the open sky.
Mr. Wolston and the two brothers dined off the remains of their luncheon and a few turtle eggs, which Ernest had found, roasted among the ashes, with the addition of some of the fresh kernels of the fir-apples which grew in quantities in the neighbourhood, and which have the flavour of the hazel-nut.
The first to close his eyes was Jack, for he was the most tired of the three. He had never stopped beating the thickets and the bushes, often at such a distance that Mr. Wolston had been obliged to call him back. But as he was the first to go to sleep, so, too, was he the first to wake at daybreak.
The three resumed their march at once. An hour later they had to ford a little stream which probably ran into the Montrose five or six miles further on. So at least Ernest believed, taking its south-westerly course into consideration.
There were still the same wide prairies, vast plantations of sugar-cane, and, in the damp places, many clumps of those wax-trees which bear the flower on one stalk and the fruit upon the other.
At last dense forests appeared instead of the trees that grew singly upon the flanks of the Green Valley, cinnamons, palms of various kinds, figs, mangroves, and many bearing no edible fruit, such as spruce and evergreen oak and maritime oak, all of magnificent growth. Except in the few spots where the wax-trees grew, there were no marshy places in this district. Moreover, the ground rose steadily—a fact which deprived Jack of his last hope of meeting any flocks of waterfowl. He would have to be satisfied with the game of plain and forest.
Mr. Wolston said:
"It is quite clear, my dear Jack, that we shall have nothing to complain of if we are reduced to sultana birds, partridges, quails, bustards and grouse, not to mention antelopes, cavies, and agoutis. But I think it would be wise only to lay in supplies just as we are going to make a halt, so as to not to overload our game-bags."
"You are quite right, Mr. Wolston," the ardent sportsman replied. "But when game comes within such easy range it is very difficult to resist."
But finally Jack fell in with Mr. Wolston's advice. It was as late as eleven o'clock when several gunshots proclaimed the fact that the bill of fare for the first meal was just completed. People who like their game a little high would very likely have found fault with the brace of grouse and the three snipe that Fawn retrieved from the brushwood. But nothing was left of these birds, which were roasted before a fire of dry wood. As for the dog, he regaled himself upon the carcasses.
In the afternoon, however, a few more shots were necessary to drive away animals formidable if only because of their superior numbers. All three guns had to speak to put to flight a band of wild cats, of the kind that had been seen previously within the Promised Land, when the first visit was paid to the Green Valley. They made off with a heavy list of wounded, raising hideous cries which resembled mewing and howling mixed. It might be well to make careful provision against an attack by them during the next halt for the night.
This country was rich in birds, other than game—parrots, parrakeets, brilliant scarlet macaws, tiny toucans with green wings decked with gold, big Virginian blue-jays, and tall flamingoes. It was also thronged with antelopes, elands, quaggas, onagers, and buffaloes. Directly they scented the presence of man from afar, these creatures galloped away at great speed.
The country, still rising steadily towards the range, had lost as yet none of its fertility, which was as great as that of the northern part of the island. Soon Mr. Wolston, Ernest, and Jack came to a wooded belt. As they drew near the foot of the mountains they saw a succession of lofty forests, seemingly of great density. Next morning they might expect a much more difficult and fatiguing march.
That evening the hungry men regaled themselves upon hazel-hens, of which all three had bagged a few from a covey which Fawn put up in the tall and tangled grass. Camp was pitched at the edge of a magnificent forest of sago-trees, watered by a tiny stream which the steep pitch of the ground converted into a torrent as it sped on its course towards the south-west.
On this occasion Mr. Wolston decided to organise a sharp watch on the outskirts of the camp. A fire was to be kept alive until dawn. This necessitated their taking it in turns to watch by it throughout the night, which was disturbed by the howling of animals within close distance.
The start next morning was made in the small hours. Another seven or eight miles, and the foot of the mountains would be reached—perhaps in the second stage that day, if no obstacle occurred to delay the march. And if the flanks of the range were practicable on their northern side, the ascent would only take the first few hours of the following morning.
The country now presented a very different appearance from that seen on emerging from the Green Valley. To right and left, woods rose, tier on tier. They consisted almost exclusively of resinous species, which flourish in great altitudes, and were watered by brawling little streams which flowed towards the east. These little streams, which contributed directly or indirectly to the Montrose, would soon dry up under the heat of summer, and already it was possible to cross them ankle-deep.
The adventurers went on until eleven o'clock. A halt was then called for rest and refreshment, after a pretty tiring stage.
There had been no lack of game from the start. Jack had even succeeded in bagging a young antelope, the best portions of which he brought in, and the game-bags were packed with what was left, to serve for the evening dinner.
It was well that this precaution had been taken for in the afternoon all game, both furred and feathered, entirely disappeared.
The midday halt was passed at the foot of an enormous pine, near which Ernest lighted a fire of dead branches. While one of the antelope's quarters was roasting under Jack's vigilant eye, Mr. Wolston and Ernest went off a few hundred yards to get a look at the country.
"If this forest belt extends as far as the range," said Ernest, "it most likely covers the lower slopes. At least, that is what I thought I could see this morning when we left our camp."
"In that case," Mr. Wolston replied, "we shall have to make the best of it, and go through these forests. We could not get round them without greatly lengthening our route, and we might even have to go right to the east coast."
"Which must be something like twenty-five miles away," Ernest remarked, "if my estimate is right. I mean the part of the coast we went to in the pinnace, at the mouth of the Montrose."
"If that is so, my dear boy, we cannot think of reaching the range from the east. The west——"
"That is the unknown quantity, sir; besides, when the range is viewed from above the Green Valley, it seems to run out of sight to the westward."
"Well, then," said Mr. Wolston, "if we have no choice, let us risk it and break our way right through this forest to the other side. If we can't do it in one day, we will take two, or we will take three; but we will get to our goal."
The antelope's meat, done to a turn on the live embers, some cassava cakes, and a handful of fruit gathered close by, bananas, guavas, and cinnamon apples, formed the meal, for which an hour's halt sufficed. Then they picked up their arms and game-bags again, and all three plunged into the forest, guiding themselves by the pocket compass.
Marching was easy enough among these straight-stemmed, widely-spaced pines and firs, for the ground was fairly level and carpeted with grass, or rather a kind of scanty moss, which was almost free from brambles and undergrowth. It would have been far otherwise in a semi-tropical forest, where the trees are entangled by parasites and knotted together by creepers. There were no serious obstacles to interfere with free movement in this vast pine wood. There was, it is true, no beaten path to be followed, not even one beaten by animals; but the trees allowed of free passage, although necessitating occasional détours.
Although game was now scarce, Jack and Mr. Wolston, and Ernest, too, were obliged to use their guns during this stage. It was not a matter of carnivorous animals, lions, tigers, panthers or pumas, some of which had been seen near the Promised Land and in the country round about Pearl Bay. But it was a breed as numerous as it was mischievous.
"The beggars!" Jack exclaimed. "One might almost think that the whole lot came to take shelter here after we drove them out of the woods at Wood Grange and Sugar-cane Grove!"
And after having received several fir-cones, hurled by a strong arm, in the chest, he made haste to let fly a couple of shots in reply.
A fusillade had to be kept up for a whole hour, at the risk of exhausting the ammunition carried for the trip. A score of monkeys lay on the ground, seriously or mortally wounded. When they came toppling down from branch to branch, Fawn sprang upon those that had not got strength left to escape, and finished them off by throttling them.
"If it were cocoanuts the rascals were bombarding us with," Jack remarked, "it would not be half bad."
"By Jove!" Mr. Wolston answered, "I prefer fir-cones to cocoanuts. They are not so hard."
"That is so; but there is no nourishment in them," Jack replied. "Whereas the cocoanut is meat and drink too."
"Well," said Ernest, "it is better to have these monkeys in the interior of the island than to have them in the neighbourhood of our farms. We have had quite enough to do already to protect ourselves from their damage, and to destroy them with traps and lines. If these will stay in their pinewood and never come back to the Promised Land, that is all we ask of them."
"And we ask them politely, too!" Jack added, backing his courtesy up with a final shot.
When the engagement was over they resumed their march, and the only difficulty lay in keeping a steady course towards the range.
For the canopy of pines spread away before them, dense and impenetrable, without a single break, without a single glimpse of where the declining sun now stood. There was not a clearing; not so much as a fallen tree. Mr. Wolston could congratulate himself on having brought neither waggon nor mount with him. The team of buffaloes, and Jack's onager, would have found it impossible to get through some places where the pines grew so close that they were almost entangled in one another, and it might have become necessary to turn back.
About seven in the evening they reached the southern boundary of the pine forest. The upward slope of the ground was so steep that the forest spread in tiers over the lower ramifications of the range, and the mountain summits came into view just as the sun was sinking behind the lesser chains which cut the western horizon.
There was a vast accumulation here of fragments of rock that had fallen from the mountain top. Here, too, a number of streams broke out, the source, perhaps, of the Montrose River, and followed the slope of the ground towards the east.
In spite of their keen desire to reach their goal, Mr. Wolston and the two boys looked about and sought a recess in the rocks, where they could find shelter until the morning. Then, whilst Ernest was busy getting ready their meal, Mr. Wolston and Jack went to the nearest trees to gather armfuls of dry grass, which they spread on the sand inside the little cave. They ate a couple of grouse, and then, being very tired, turned their thoughts to sleep.
But some precautions had to be taken. As day drew to a close animals had been heard howling near at hand, and with the howling an occasional roar was heard, the nature of which it would have been difficult for anyone to fail to realise.
So a fire was lighted at the mouth of the cave, to be kept up all night with the dry wood, of which Mr. Wolston and Jack collected a great heap.
Watch was maintained until sunrise, Ernest taking the first watch of three hours, Jack the second, and Mr. Wolston the third.
Next morning at daybreak all three were astir, and Jack called out in his ringing tones:
"Well, Mr. Wolston, here is the great day at last! In a few hours the dearest wish of your heart will be accomplished! You will have planted your flag on the highest point of New Switzerland!"
"In a few hours? Well, yes, if the climb is not too difficult," Ernest remarked.
"Anyhow," said Mr. Wolston, "whether to-day or to-morrow, we shall probably know what to think about the size of the island."
"Unless it extends right out of sight to the south and west," Jack replied.
"I don't think so," Mr. Wolston answered, "for then it could not have been missed by navigators in this part of the Indian Ocean."
"We shall see, we shall see!" Jack replied.
They made their breakfast of cold venison, carefully saving all that was left, for there would certainly be no game at all upon these barren slopes, which Fawn did not like at all. Outside the cave they slung their guns over their shoulders, for there were no wild animals to be afraid of now. Then, with Jack in front, Ernest following, and Mr. Wolston bringing up the rear, the three began the ascent of the lower slopes.
Ernest computed the height of the range to be eleven or twelve hundred feet. One peak, which rose up almost in front of the pinewood, towered six hundred feet above the ridge line. It was at the summit of this peak that Mr. Wolston desired to plant a flag.
About a hundred yards from the cave the forest belt came to an abrupt end. A few patches of verdure were still to be seen above, grass land with clumps of dwarf trees, aloes, mastics, myrtles, and heaths, attaining a height of six or seven hundred feet, and representing the second belt. But the acclivity was so steep that in some places it exceeded fifty degrees, and they had to tack on the way up.
A circumstance favourable to the ascent was that the mountain side provided a firm foot-hold. There was no reason yet to hold on by the finger nails or have recourse to crawling. The foot got a firm hold on the verdure, broken by roots and jutting points of rock.
So the ascent could be effected without check, zigzagging so as to reduce the angle of inclination, although it would involve fatigue. Before the summit was reached the climbers would be obliged to halt at least once or twice to get their wind. Ernest and Jack, young and vigorous, in constant training and inured to all physical exercise, might not feel over-fatigued, but Mr. Wolston, at his age, could not afford a like expenditure of strength. But he would be quite satisfied if he and his companions were encamped at the foot of the peak before lunch time; it would only take them an hour or two after that to gain the extreme top.
Over and over again Jack was entreated not to imagine himself a chamois. They continued to mount, and, for his part, Mr. Wolston was determined not to cry halt till he had reached the foot of the peak, where the second belt of the range came to an end. That the most difficult part of the task would then be accomplished was not certain. For if, at that height, the eye could see towards the north and west and east, it certainly would not be able to see anything of the country which lay to the south. To do that they must reach the extreme summit. The country towards the Green Valley was known, between the mouth of the Montrose and the promontory of Pearl Bay. So their most natural and legitimate curiosity would not be satisfied until they had climbed to the top of the peak, or, should the ascent of it prove impracticable, until they had succeeded in working round it.
At last, when the second belt had been crossed, a halt at its extremity became imperative. Rest was necessary after such expenditure of energy. It was noon, and, after luncheon, the ascent of the longest incline of the peak could be begun again. Their stomachs were fairly clamouring for food. Physical effort of such a kind is apt to interfere with the digestion. But the urgency was now to fill their stomachs, without troubling to find out beforehand if they would or would not digest easily a meal whose sole solid dish consisted of the last scraps of the antelope.
An hour later Jack sprang to his feet again, leaped onto the first rocks at the foot of the slope, disregarding Mr. Wolston's warnings, and called out:
"Let him who loves me follow me!"
"Well, let us try to give him that proof of our affection, my dear Ernest," was Mr. Wolston's reply, "and above all, let us try to prevent him from making a fool of himself!"